"THIS    RING  SHE   LEFT,  AND   WITH    IT   LOVE." 


\_Frontispiece.~. 


IRIS: 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 


BY 


M.  TOLAND. 


WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   &   CO. 
1879- 


Copyright,  1878,  by  M.  B.  M.  ToLAND. 


Bancroft  Ubrarj 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS, 


ENGRAVED    BY  JAS.  W.  LAUDERBACH. 


FIGURE 

1.  "This  ring  she  left,  and  with  it  love" 

2.  Cupid  in  the  ring 

3.  "  Then  stood  erect,  to  watch  a  lovely  maid" 

4.  "  And  in  her  playful  dalliance  caressed  the 

plashing  ripplets" 

5.  "  Illumed  the  clock — the  old  bronze  Time" 

6.  "  He  met  his  son  in  strange  disguise" 

7.  "  His  vigils  constantly  he  kept" 

8.  "  Our  hero  Rozmer  in  deep  study  sat'' 

9.  "  In   their   dark  faces    beamed   a  welcome 

true"     ...... 

10.  "  She  read  the  touching  story  of  his  hope- 
less love"      ..... 

J  I.   "  The  bridge  of  ice  as  plate-glass  lay" 
12.   "  Another  charm,  more  potent  still"    . 


ARTIST.  PAGE 

W.  L.  SHEPi'ARD  Frontispiece. 

PAUL  FRENZENY  .         .   Title. 

F.  B.  SCHELL  .         .         15 


F.  B.  SCHELL 

20 

PAUL  FRENZENY    . 

32 

E.  B.  BENSELL 

34 

MATILDA  LOTZ 

43 

A.  FREDERICKS 

46 

W.  L.  SiiEPi'ARD  .  .  54 

A.  FREDERICKS  .  .  58 

F.  B.  SCHELL  .  .  65 

PAUL  FRENZENY  .  .  76 


5  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

FIGURE                                                                                                                                                       ARTIST.  PAGE 

13.  "My  chile, — Miss  I — ris, — whar  you  gone?"  E.  B.  BENSELL  .         .         80 

14.  "  Eager   huntsmen    deftly   close   in   circle 

narrowing  round  the  prize"    .         .  PAUL  FRENZENY  .         .         84 

15.  "  Half    lost    amid    the   flowing   lace, — the 

lovely  bride"         ....  A.  FREDERICKS  .         .        87 

1 6.  "The  wedding  service  hour"      .         .         .  PAUL  FRENZENY  .         .         89 

17.  "  Near  old  St.  George's  ruined  tower"         .  P\  B.  SCHELL  .         .         91 

1 8.  "Or  near  the  famous  Drayton  Hall     .         .  F.  B.  SCHELL  .         .         92 


I  RIS: 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 


CANTO     FIRST. 

i. 

BRIGHT  was  the  bosom  of  the  Kennebec ; 

Its  wayward  waters  dashed  along  the  shore 
And  surged  in  wavelets,  crowned  with  foam  and  fleck 

That  nodded  snowy  plumes  their  surface  o'er. 
Chained  to  the  bank,  and  dancing  on  the  tide, 

Was  a  small  boat  that  swayed  in  measures  gay ; 
As  a  wild  steed  in  fiery,  uncurbed  pride, 

Champs  at  his  bit,  impatient  of   delay, 
So  struggled  that  frail  craft  to  break  away, 
Cresting  its  prow  in  wreaths  of  downy  spray. 

i  T. 

A  tall  young  man   in   rustic  garb  was  there, 
As  if  in  waiting,  near  a   mystic  cove  ; 


I0  IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

Of  noble  form,  black  eyes  and  dark-brown  hair — 
A  manly  beauty,  such  as  maidens  love ; 

Strong  Grecian  features,  that  a  smile  or  frown 
Would  change  to  sunshine  or  a  darker  hue  : 

He  was  the  boast  of  all  that  country  town, 
Renowned  in  Nimrod  sports,  brave,  honest,  true, 

He  tilled  the  land,  his  nets  for  fish  he  drew, 

Nor  were  his  hours  of  studious  leisure  few. 


1 1 1. 

There  was  a  shade  of  sadness  on  his  face 

Too  deep  for  one  so  full  of  life  as  he, 
That  showed  a  hidden  sorrow  had  its  place 

From  which  he'd  not  the  strength  his  heart  to    free. 
The  waning  day  had  reached  the  sunset  hour; 

Phoebus  his  golden  beams  in  crimson  furled, 
Withdrew  their  light,  as  closes  some  fair  flower, 

To  hide  his  beauty  from  this  lower  world ; 
His  parting  rays  upon  the  waters  purled, 
As  he  away  in  glowing  splendor  whirled. 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  ! 

IV. 

An  only  son  :   his  heritage,  the  land, 

Broad  fields  and  forest  stretching  to  the  shore, 
Small  income   yielded ;    and  his  shapely  hand 

The  sun-browned  hue  of   honest  labor  wore  : 
His  name  was  Rozmer  Langdon  :   near  the  wood 

The  stately  mansion-house  where   he  was  born 
In  all  its  hoary  grimness  frowning  stood, 

Its  crenelated  mouldings  fretted,  torn, 
Its  roughened  tiles,  its  oaken  thresholds  worn 
By  passing  footsteps  for  a  century  borne, 

v. 

Rozmer,  with  his  black,  restless,  glancing  eyes, 

Gleaned  the  pure  beauties  of  all  thought  sublime  ; 
With  waking  dawn  he  from  his  couch  would  rise 

To  write  sweet  sonnets  in  his  untaught  rhyme. 
'Squire  Langdon — none  knew  whence  his  title  came, 

Unless  inherited  with  the  .old  place, 
(For  sire  and  grandsire  too  had  worn  the  same, 

That  he  assumed  with  such  becoming  grace) — 


12  IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

He  could  among  the  musty  parchments  trace 
A  blazoned  crest,  with  an  uplifted  mace. 

VI. 

He  labored  hard,  in  his  grand,  pompous  way, 

To  keep  the  style  conformed  to  his  estate — 
In  old-time  etiquette  his  court  to  pay, 

Unmindful  of   the  cold  decrees  of  fate ; 
He  deemed  himself  familiar  with  the  law  ; 

Blackstone  his  mentor  was  in  legal  lore  ; 
With  comprehension  keen  he  plainly  saw 

The  right  from  wrong,  and  yet  for  hours  he'd  pore 
Each  well-worn  page  of  codes  and  ethics  o'er, 
To  puzzle  his  opponent  all  the  more. 

VII. 

His  wife  was  amiable — the  worthy  pair 

Had  wants  so  few  they  deemed  not  hard  their  lot : 

Rozmer  their  idol ;   and  'twas  their  first  care 
To  make  him  happy  in   that  lonely   spot : 

For   him  were  guests  invited  every  spring, 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  l 

The  old  house  waking  with  the  birds  and  flowers  ; 
The  social  life  these  friends  were  sure  to  bring 

Wove  joy  and  sunshine  with  the  fleeting  hours, 
Converted  rural  gloom  to  fairy  bowers, 
And  blended  music  with  the  falling  showers. 

VIII. 

Among  the  guests  was  one  of  merry  wit, 

Bright  sparkling  as  her  own  blue  beaming  eyes  ; 
She  in  his  boat  with  Rozmer  oft  would  sit 

And  weave  her  charm  in  fancy's  varied  dyes  : 
Brilliant  and  beautiful,  she  well  became 

The  name  of  Iris,  that  her  learned  sire 
Had  chosen  for  her — 'twas  the  classic  name 

Of  winged  goddess  :  Rozmer  did  admire, 
Yet  vainly  tried  to  check  the  fond  desire — 
To  hopes  so  high  he  hardly  dared  aspire. 

IX. 

Rroud  was  her  family,  of  lineage  old, 

With  wealth  and  beauty  added  to  the   name; 


;    OR,   THE   OPAL   RING. 

-  T 

Renowned  in  deeds  of   chivalry  oft  told 

Stood  Vincent  Albey  on  the  scroll  of   fame  : 

He   died  when   Iris  was  a  little  child ; 

Her  widowed  mother  to  the  North  would  bring 

Her  cherished   darling,  when  the  summer  smiled 
On  the  unfolded  beauties  of  the  spring, 

And  bud  and  blossom  did  sweet  incense  fling, 

And  happy  hours  flew  by  with  hasty  wing. 


x. 

Until  that  season,  all  had  gone  quite  well 

In  rural  pastime  through  each  lengthened  day. 
Iris  was  now  sixteen,  and  who  shall  tell 

What  lurking  dangers  haunt  a  maiden's  way? 
Her  mother  thought  of  Rozmer  with  a  fear 

That  made  more  vigilant  maternal  care: 
With  his  proud  bearing  he  might  well  appear 

A  hero  to  her  child  ;  his  talents  rare, 
His  manners  courtly — might  he  then  not  dare 
To  rob  her  of  her  precious  daughter  fair? 


THEN    STOOD    ERECT,  TO    WATCH    A    LOVELY    MAID.' 


!5  IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

XI. 

Though  much  against  her  pleasure,  she'd  not  fail 

To  join  their  rambles  in  the  evening  light : 
That  day  he  had  proposed  a  farewell  sail ; 

The  indulgent  dame  her  duty  would  not  slight. 
The  tide  was  high  when  Rozmer  took  his  stand, 

Watching  the  waves  recede  along  the  shore; 
Waiting  an  hour  impatiently,  he  scanned 

With  burning  thoughts  his  doubtful  future  o'er, 
'Mid  hopes  and  fears  that  wild  confusion  bore 
To  joys  forbidden  ever,  ever  more. 

XII. 

Our  hero  whistled,  as  he  waited  on, 

In  low,  sad  tone,  so  sweet  that  o'er  his  head 
A  nest  of   squirrels  had  been  fairly  won, 

And,  as  they  listened,  burrs  and  nuts  they  shed 
Then  stood  erect,  to  watch  a  lovely  maid 

Glide  through  the  scented  path  in  merry  glee  ; 
The  squirrels  had  no  need  to  be  afraid 

Of  anything  so  beautiful  as  she, 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING.  \  7 

Yet  swiftly  scampered  up  the  tall  beech-tree, 
And  swayed  its  topmost  twigs  in  mockery. 

XIII. 

Her  dress  was  white;    the  misty  fabric,  hung 

O'er  rounded  limbs  just  free  from  childhood's  play, 
Floated  in  graceful  folds  the  ferns  among, 

Impearled  with  dew-drops  gleaned  along  the  way; 
Her  manner,  dignified  in  calm  repose, 

Was  winning,  sprightly  in  her  girlish  play ; 
Her  comely  face  was  flushed  with  deeper  rose, 

As  though  it  caught  the  glow  of  setting  day 
That  cast  its  crimson  blushes  o'er  the  spray, 
Blending  a  warmth  with  twilight's  sober  gray. 

XIV. 

She  was  attended  by  the  anxious  dame, 

Fretting  and  stumbling  with  bewildered  care. 

"Oh,  dear,"  she  cried,  "my  foot  is  turned!  I'm  lame!" 
"  Mamma,  take  heed ;  of  these  deep  ruts  beware ; 

Let  me  assist  you;"  Iris  kindly  said; 

3 


!8  MIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

"  Tis  very  wrong  of  me  to  cause  you  pain." 
She  then  with  slackened  pace  the  matron  led 

Through  mossy  lawn  to  path  more  smooth  and  plain  ; 
But  all  her  tenderness  had  been  in  vain 
To  quiet  that  good  lady's  nerves  again. 

xv. 

At  their  approach  all  changed  was  Rozmer's  mood; 

The  clouds  of  sadness  vanished  that  he  wore ; 
Smiling  with  genial  greeting,  there  he  stood 

Ready  to  launch  his  boat  from  off  the  shore. 
"  Good  evening,  Rozmer,  lo !   we  come  at  last 

To  sail  with  you  upon  the  waters  bright; 
But  we  must  haste,  the  day  is  fading  fast; 

See,  Hesper  ushers   the   approaching   night. 
Mamma  does  not  in  sailing  much  delight: 
Should  we  be  late,  'twould  give  her  such  a  fright." 

XVI. 

The  ebbing  tide,  receding  from  the  shore, 
Left  the  boat  motionless  upon  the  sand ; 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  I( 

No  more  the  waves  their  crested  foam-wreaths  wore, 
They  slept,  as  silenced  by  divine  command. 

The  dame  demurred  at  both  the  boat  and  hour  ; 
"  I'll  wait,"  she  said,  "  upon  the  river  side, 

In  the  protection  of  this  cedar  bower  ; 

Here  I  can  watch  you  o'er  the  waters  glide : 

You'll  not  go  far,  my  dear ;   you  know,  beside, 

It  always  makes  me  sick  in  boats  to  ride." 


XVII. 

The  good  dame  had  her  wish  and  even  more, 

They  left  her  there  secure  from  every  harm. 
Rozmer  the  mirthful  Iris  gently  bore, 

Firmly  supported  by  his  stalwart  arm, 
Out  to  the  boat ;  then  launched  it  from  its  rest, 

And  doffecl  his  coat  to  spread  beneath  her  feet, 
That,  thankless  for  the  service,  lightly  pressed 

The  garment,  fragrant  with  the  clover  sweet. 
She  wondered,  when  his  glance  she  chanced  to  meet, 
Why  he  her  smiles  in  sullen  mood  should  greet. 


20 


IR/S:    THE  ROMANCE 


XVIII. 

They  floated  on  near  sylvan  grottoes  fair, 

'Neath  drooping  branches  forming  Undine's  cave. 


"  And  in  her  playful  dalliance  caressed  the  plashing  ripplets." 

Nature  her  choicest  charms  had  lavished  there, 
And  to  the  scene  a  dreamy  beauty  gave. 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

Iris  was  happy  as  a  little  child, 

Her  laughing  eyes  her  merry  mood  expressed ; 
She  chatted  gaily,  dipped  her  hand  and  smiled 

In  the  bright  waters  all  in  silver  dressed, 
And  in  her  playful  dalliance   caressed 
The  plashing  ripplets  with  their  quivering  crest. 


21 


XI  X. 

Rozmer  sat  wrapt  in  silence  until  they 

Had  passed  beyond  the  reach  of  other  ears, 
While  she,  with  guileless,  gleeful  pleasure  gay, 

Laughed  at  her  mother's  over-anxious  fears  : 
She  did  not  look  at  him ;   had  she  done  so 

And  marked  his  brow,  contracted  by  distress, 
Her  woman's  instincts  would  have  made  her  know 

Why  he  provoked  her  witty  sallies  less, 
Why  curtly  answered  with  a  "no"  or  ''yes" 
The  reason  that  to  her  he'd  ne'er  confess. 


22  IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

XX. 

"  O  what  a  glorious  eve !     How  calm,  how  still, 

The  drowsy  waves  lie  sleeping  on  the  breast 
Of  this  grand  river ! — in  its  mighty  will 

It  gathers  them,  as  children,  to  their  rest. 
Look,   how  this  moonbeam  forms  a  quivering  heart ! 

Ah  !    now  'tis  gone,  destroyed  and  vanished  quite, 
And  of  the  other  ripples  forms  a  part. 

I've  caught  one  now — oh,  see  how  purely  bright 
It  shimmers,  like  a  dancing  water-sprite, 
Blending  its  lustre  with  the  stars'  pale  light !" 

XXI. 

Thus  Iris  chatted  on  in  accents  sweet 

As  rippling  murmurs  of  the  parted  tide 
That  dashed  along  as  if  afraid  to  meet 

The  sturdy  oars  dipped  low  on  either  side. 
"Rozmer,  just  listen  while  I  read. your  fate: 

You've  grown  so  dull,  I  can't  continue  glad 
In  solemn  presence  such  as  yours  of  late ; 

From  very  sympathy,  one  must  be  sad : 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  2 

You  have  become  a  very  doleful  lad  ; 

I  fear  you're  moon-struck  and  will  soon  be  mad. 

XXII. 

"See,  I  will  set  this  lily-leaf  afloat 

And  let  it  show  your  future  destiny ; 
Imagine  you  are  on  the  tiny  boat, 

Floating  across  life's  ever-changing  sea  : 
Look  how  it  sails ;  thus  you  will  fortune  brave, 

And  onward  glide  until  the  final  day: 
Be  careful !    don't  upset  it  by  a  wave, 

Nor  with  your  oars  make  such  a  splashing  spray  ; 
It  follows  us  along  the  furrowed  way, 
And  bounds  as  lightly  as  a  lamb  at  play. 

XXIII. 

"  Still  silent  ?     Fie,  oh,  shame,  on  my  last  night ! 

The  very  frogs  do  croak  a  farewell  lay. 
Invoke  thy  muse,  good  Rozmer ;    please  recite 

Or  sing  to  me  a  song  of  nymph  or  fay." 
He  at  her  bidding  crossed  one  dripping  oar, 

The  other  firmly  held  with  one  brown  hand 


24  /ff/S.-   THE  ROMANCE 

To  steer  his  light  canoe  more  safely  o'er 

The  hidden  rocks  ;  then  sang  at  her  command 
A  naiad's  song:    the  echoes  on  the  land 
Prolonged  the  music  with  their  elfin  band. 

XXIV. 

SONG. 

From  the  tide 
By  my  side 

Fair  Undine  arose : 
Vision   bright, 
Lovely  sprite, 

In  her  graceful  pose, 
Floated   near, 
Without  fear; 

Thus  she  whispered  me : 
"Hard   thy  lot, 
Thou  hast  sought 

That  which  cannot  be- 

XXV. 

"  Not  above 
Seek  thy  love 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  25 

In   the   starry  skies ; 

Not   below 

Waters'   flow- 
He  who   seeks  us  dies. 

Beauties  cold 

We   unfold, 

Therefore  woo  us  not ; 

Seek  thine  own, 

Leave  alone 

What   is  vainly  sought." 


XXVI. 

She  clapped  her  little  hands  in  perfect  glee  : 

"  Brave  poet,  laurels  thy  young  brow  shall  crown  ! 
You  ne'er  before  sang  song  so  sweet  for  me. 

How  did  your  hero  his  great  sorrow  drown  ? 
Did  he  for  ever  after  leave  alone 

Undine  to  gather  shells  beneath  the  deep  ? 
Or  did  he  for  his  rashness  then  atone, 

And  for  some  earth-born  nymph  his  fancy  keep  ?" 
He  answered :   "  He  awoke,  and   tried  to  sweep 
The  glamour  from  his  mind,  as  dreams  of  sleep. 

4 


26  /ff/S1:    THE  ROMANCE 

XXVII. 

"  I,  too,  have  lived  in  dreams  of  hope  and  fear, 

Since  first  a  goddess  came  to  bless  our  bowers 
She  does  not  care  for  me,  or  hold  me  dear, 

But  as  a  toy  to  cheer  her  duller  hours." 
And  as  he  spoke,  a  bitter,   taunting  scorn 

Gave  to  his  words  a  meaning   hard  to  bear : 
"What  am  I — I,  a  rustic  farmer  born — 

That  I,  in  even,  dream  of  love,  should  dare 
To  covet  for  my  own  such  beauty  rare, 
Or  wish  that  she  my  struggling  lot  should  share  ?" 

XXVIII. 

Iris  sat  silent — as  the  lily,  pale — 

The  waters  in  their  placid  beauty  lay 
Covered  with  moonbeams,  like  a  silver  veil 

That  rippled  in  its  misty  folds  away: 
Through  her  young  heart  there  shot  an  icy  chill  ; 

Was  this  the  Rozmer  she  had  known  so  long? 
At  once  to  crush  by  his  strong  iron  will 

The  love  that  tuned  so  passionate  a  song? 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  2J 

She  thought  him  cruel,  for  she  knew  no  wrong, 
And  begged  that  he  their  sail  would  not  prolong. 


XXIX. 

Her  mother  wondered  at  their  quick  return — 

She  marked  the  sudden  change  in  Iris'  mood ; 
In  her  solicitude  the  cause  to  learn, 

Her  daughter's  early  confidence  she  wooed 
(Rozmer  had  dared  his  rustic  suit  to  press  ; 

Iris  was  true  to  family  and  state ; 
For  him  she  sighed,  and  wished  his  love  were  less ; 

She  could  not  but  condole  his  hapless  fate)  ; 
With  words  of   fond  endearment  and  caress, 
She  questioned  Iris,  who  would  not  confess. 

xxx. 

Rozmer,  when  they  were  safe  at  home,  returned, 
Sprang  in  his  boat,  and  pushed  off  far  and  fast; 

His  rapid  strokes  his  brown  hands  blistered,  burned, 
As  o'er  the  heaving  tide  he  swiftly  passed  ; 


2g  IR/S:    THE  ROMANCE 

And  faster  yet  his  maddening  course  he  sped, 
And  would  beguile  by  earnest  toil  his  grief; 

The  cooling  dews  fell  lightly  on  his  head, 

But  to  his  fevered  brow  brought  no  relief; — 

Rowed  by  too  careless  hand,  on  sunken  reef 

His  boat  careened,  and  closed  his  journey  brief. 

XXXI. 

The  boat  o'erturned,  with  gurgling  sigh  and  plash, 

Near  a  small  island  in  the  river's    close. 
Confused  and  nearly  drowned  by  sudden  dash 

In  the  dark  water,  Rozmer  struggling  rose, 
Swam  to  a  willow  branch,  that  drooping  swung 

To  kiss  its  shadow  mirrored  in  the  deep  ; 
He  climbed  the  mossy  bank,  wild  vines  among, 

Through  tangled  growth  along  the  pathway  steep 
Then,  as  if  waking   from  a  troubled  sleep, 
Let  his  sad  glances  o'er  the  broad  waste  sweep. 

XXXII. 

"  Float  on  !"    he  cried  ;  "  oblivious  waters,  close 
Thus  o'er  my  heart,  to  drown  its  agony ! 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  2g 

01 

Fain  would .  I  still  its  wildly  beating  throes, 

And  drift  through  life  as  thou  dost  drift  from   me." 

"What  er  ye  doin'  thar?"  a  fisher  cried; 
"  Yew  hadent  orter  talk  t'  yerself  thet  way  : 

Upset  yer  skiff,   hev  ye  ?     In  this  yere  tide 
'Twill  drift  way  aout  to  sea  afore  'tis  day ; 

Look  here  naow,  mister,  don't  yer  scoot  away — 

I'll  leave  my  net  an'  pole  ye  hum,  I   say." 


XXXIII. 

Rozmer  deigned  no  reply,  but  disappeared 

In  the  thick  wildwood,  dripping  as  he  went, 
With  clay  and  water-weeds  his  garments  smeared ; 

Up  winding  path  his  weary  steps  he  bent 
To  a  small  cot,  and  there  a  welcome  found: 

The  farmer  shared  of  all  he  had  the  best, 
Gave  thanks  to  God  his  friend  had  not  been  drowned 

In  dry,  warm  flannels  quickly  had  him  dressed, 
And  food  and  cordial  brought  his  shivering  guest, 
And  yielded  his  own  bed  for  him  to  rest. 


30  IRIS;    OR,   THE   OPAL   RING. 

XXXIV. 

"What  is  it,  brother?     Am  I  needed,  too?" 

"  No,  Fanny ; — only  Rozmer,  lacking  faith 
To  walk  upon  the  waters,  swam  them  through ; 

He  just  appeared  to  me,  a  dripping  wraith ; 
He  struck  the  reef  out  near  the  channel,  where 

He  left  the  water-sprites  his  boat  to  keep, 
And  came  to  us.     I've  given  him  good  care  ; 

Let  the  fair  Iris  watch  for  him  and  weep, 
Her  tearful  glances  o'er  the  waters  sweep, 
While  you  your  blue  eyes  close  in  peaceful  sleep. 

Good-night!" 


CANTO     SECOND. 

i. 

THE  sunshine  glanced  the  casement  through, 

Illumed  the  clock — the  old  bronze  Time 
That  every  second  deftly  drew 

His  scythe,  with  ticking  measured  chime, 

Beside  the  panelled  wall. 
Breakfast  was  on  the  table  spread, 

And  all  assembled,  saving  one. 
"  Has  Rozmer  not  yet  left  his  bed  ?" 

'Squire   Langdon  asked.     "What  keeps  our  son? 
I'll  give  the  lad  a  call." 

II. 

With  hurried  step  he  climbed  each  stair, 
Up  the  long  winding  way  and  steep ; 

31 


IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 


The  room  was  undisturbed,  and  where 
Was  his  dear  boy — where  did  he  sleep? 


"  Illumed  the  clock — the  old  bronze  Time." 

He  trembled  as  he  stood, 
Then   rushed  a^ain  to  those  below, 

o 

His  gray  eyes  gleaming  with  affright 
"  Mother,  I'll  to  the  river  go  : 

Rozmer  did  not  return  last  night ; 
I  fear  this  bodes  no 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING.  33 


III. 

It  was  not  far  he  had  to  go  ; 

He  met  his  son  in  strange  disguise, 
Walking  with  doubtful  step  and  slow. 

The  'Squire  stopped  in  great  surprise, 

Although  relieved  and  glad: 
"  Rozmer,  what  means  this  masquerade  ? 

Where  have  you  tarried  all  the  night? 
A  very  sorry  trick  you've  played 

Your  father,  boy !     It  was  not  right, — 
We  thought  we'd  lost  you,  lad." 


IV. 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  you  see ; 

Only  my  dear  old  boat  is  lost, 
Last  night  upset  and  drifted  free, 

As  near  Swan  Island  reef  I  crossed—- 
But please  don't  mention  this ; 
Don't  say  a  word  when  you  get  home 
Of  my  mishap,  but  only  say 
5 


34 


IRIS.-    THE  ROMANCE 


The  reason  why  I  did  not  come, 
To  yonder  isle  I  went  to  stay 

With  James  and  Fanny  Bliss, 


"  He  met  his  son  in  strange  disguise. 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 
V. 

"  Tis  true  my  boat  did  head  that  way, 

And  none   need  know  that  I  came  back : 
I  go  to  change  this  suit,  and  pay 

The  visit,  that  your  truth  won't  lack — 

I'll  of  this  garb  dispose." 
In  sooth  it  was  a  grand  display, 

A  fine  blue  coat,  antique  and  long, 
Large  buttons  in  their  bright  array, 

Of  good  old-fashioned  size,  and  strong 
Knee-breeches  and  buff  hose. 


VI. 

His  mother  waited  near  the  urn, 
Each  cup  she  filled  up  to  its  brim, 

Yet  oft  to  listen  she  would  turn, 

With  anxious  tears  her  dark  eyes  dim ; 
Iris  looked  very  sad. 

Profuse  in   sympathy,  verbose 
Was   Mistress  Albey  in  excuse ; 


35 


;  IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

She  said :  "  He  found  the  night  so  close, 
Perhaps  he  took  a  moonlight  cruise — 
He's  such  a  restless  lad. 

VI  I. 

"  I  wished  so  much  to  thank  your  son — 

Please  say  good-bye  to  him  for  me ; 
Iris,  my  dear,  we  must  be  gone. 

Good-bye — ah !  here's  the  'Squire,  I  see, 

To  solve  the  mystery ; — 
"  What  news  ?"     His  mother's  anxious  glance 

Read  hope  and  pleasure  and  surprise ; 
The  'Squire  laughed,  and  said :  "  Perchance — " 

Then  stopped,  and  winked  with  both  his  eyes- 
"  Perchance  'tis  destiny. 

VIII. 

"  Rozmer  last  night — I  have  been  told 
By  one  who  knows — was  at  Swan  Isle, 

Where  dwells  a  lass  with  hair  like  gold, 
Blue  eyes,  fair  face,  and  winsome  smile,— 
The  pretty  Fanny  Bliss." 


OF  AN   OPAL   RING 

He  rubbed  his  hands  complacently . 

"  Ladies,  I  sanction  Rozmer's  choice ; 
A  welcome  daughter  she  will  be : 

I,  as  a  father,  must  rejoice 

In  such  good  news  as  this." 

IX0 

Iris  was  standing  on  the  green ; 

She  hastened  from  the  carriage-door ; 
A  conscious  blush  might  have  been  seen 

Flame  through  the  heavy  veil  she  wore, 

As  she  approached  his  side. 
"  My  dear  good  friend,  can  this  be  true  ? 

Congratulate  them  both  for  me." 
An  opal  ring  she  trembling  drew 

From  off  her  finger  hastily : 

"Present  this  to  the  bride!" 

x. 

Her  mother  said  :  "  We  wish  them  joy ; 
He  should  have  told  us  this  before : 


IRIS:   THE  ROMANCE 

This  quite  accounts — the  naughty  boy  ! — 
For  all  the  anxious  clouds  he  wore, 

The  dawning  of  his  love." 
Just  as  they  waved  their  last  adieu, 

Young  Rozmer,  looking  pale  and  grim, 
Advanced  the  open  portal  through  : 

Smiling,  the  'Squire  glanced  up  at  him, 
Hoping  that  he'd  approve. 


XI. 

The  full  veins  swelled  across  his  brow, 
As  if  they'd  burst  with  rage  confined. 

"  Father !"  he  cried,  "  how  could  you  throw 
So  false  a  glamour  o'er  the  mind 
Of  one  I  love  as  life  ? 

You  know  your  story  is  not  true; 

'Tis  false  this  fate  you  weave  for  me : 

I  little  thought,  in   trusting  you, 

) 

That  such  a  simple  mystery 

With  danger  could  be  rife." 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 


XI  I. 


The  'Squire,  disgusted,  left  the  room, 

But  soon  returned  to  plead  his  cause: 
"  'Tis  folly  thus  our  hopes  to  doom ; 

Rozmer,  beware  !  one  moment  pause, 

Don't  stoop  to  artifice : 
Iris,  your  station  far  above, 

Regards  you  only  as  a  friend  ; 
This  ring  she  left,  and  with  it  love — 

A  wedding  gift  she  wished  to  send 
To  pretty  Fanny  Bliss." 

XIII. 

He  seized  the  ring  in  wild  despair 
And  kissed  the  opal,  blushing  deep, 

Prismatic-tinted  hues  as  fair 

As  o'er  the  rainbow's  arches  sweep: 
"  A  scintillating  gem  ! 

Never  was  '  promise-bow'   to  man 

More  baseless  than  all  this    must  seem 


40  JR7S:    THE  ROMANCE 


This  token  into  flames  will  fan 

The  love  that  I  dare  only  dream : 
'Tis  worth  a  diadem. 

XIV. 

"  Bright,  crystallized,  pathetic  tear, 

You  caught  her  blushes  as  you  fell ! 
With  trembling  light  of  love  and  fear, 

Hold  o'er  my  heart,  your  magic  spell 

Till  death  shall  set  me  free!" 
The  'Squire  stamped  his  foot,  and  said : 

"  Have   done  with  poet  nonsense,  child ! 
In  hopeless  love  you've  lost  your  head ; 

You  speak  in  strains  so  foolish,  wild, 
Of  things  that  cannot  be. 

xv 

"  Come  to  the  barn  with  me  awhile, 

And  help  the  boys  to  thresh  out  wheat 

Labor  will  love-sick  thoughts  beguile ; 
The  swinging  flail  will  soonest  beat 
Such  nonsense  from  your  mind." 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING.  4! 

Rozmer  his  sire  would  not  obey ; 

He  calmly  answered:  "Father,  no! 
I  go  not  to  thresh  wheat  to-day, 

Neither  to  reap  the  grain  nor  sow, 
Nor  the  full  ears  to  bind. 

XVI. 

"  Too  long  I've  tilled  the  land  in  vain ; 

A  rustic  drudge  I've  toiled  and  slaved 
For  mere  subsistence!     Where's  the  gain? 

I  see  no  way  to  fortune  paved ; — 

We  keep  poor  all  the  same. 
I'm  now  of  age ;    the  die  is  cast ! 

There's  that  within  my  bosom  burns 
That  loathes  the  labor  of  the  past 

And  for  a  brighter  future  yearns ; 
I  go  to  win  a  name !" 

XVII. 

The  bird  had  left  his  lonely  nest, 

To  other  worlds  had  winged  his  flight  ; 
6 


IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

His  mother  hoped  'twas  for  the  best, 
His  father  would  not  think  it  right, 

This  madcap  thirst  for  fame : 
Fanny,  a  bashful  country  girl, 

With  rosy  cheeks   and  eyes  of  blue, 
And  many  a  clustering  golden  curl, 

Illumed  with  sunshine  gleaming  through, 
To  cheer  them  often  came. 


XVIII. 

But  there  was  one — his  canine  friend 

In  field  of  labor,  rest  or  play — 
That  could  his  wishes  comprehend, 

Until  that  last  sad  parting  day 
When  he  was  left  behind  ; 
A  stag-hound,  ''gray  as  misty,  morn," 

Once  the  brave  leader  of  the  chase, 
But  now  with  age  so  lame  and  worn 

To  him  they  gave  the   honored  place 
Within  the  grounds  confined. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 


43 


XIX. 


Poor,  dear  old  Prince,  one  last  adieu  ! 
Then  with  a  mournful   mien   he  crept 


"  His  vigils  constantly  he  kept." 

Out  to  the  gate :   a  guardian  true, 
His  vigils  constantly  he  kept, 
Watching  for  his  return. 


44  IRIS :    OR,   THE   OPAL   RING. 

'Twas  pitiful  to  see  him  there, 
In  storm  or  sunshine,  every  day, 

Unless,  by  force  of  tender  care, 

Compelled  within  the  house  to  stay, 
In  his  mute  grief  to  mourn. 


CANTO     THIRD. 

i. 
WITHIN  a  room  scarce  fit  for  owl  or  bat, 

A  mean,  rude  attic,  gloomy,  bleak  and  drear, 
Our  hero  Rozmer  in  deep  study  sat ; 

Papers  and  manuscripts  were  scattered  near; 
One  wasted  taper  gave  a  feeble  light, 

With  flickering  flame  consuming  fast  away ; 
The  wind  sighed  sadly  through  the  clouded  night, 

From  rifted  roof   the   rain,  in  ceaseless  play, 
Fell  pattering  on   the  floor. 

1 1 
How  changed  was  he  since  he  had  left  his  home 

To  meet  the  frowns  of  this  his  other  world, 
Among  strange  fields  of  literature  to  roam, 

And  brave  the  poisoned  shafts  by  envy  hurled! 

45 


46 


IRIS.     THE  ROMANCE 


His  brow  was  pale,  and  in  the  ghostly  light 
Contrasted  weirdly  with  his  dark-brown  hair ; 


"  Our  hero  Rozmer  in  deep  study  sat." 


His  large  black  eyes  blazed  in  their  sockets,  bright 
As  stars  of  midnight  in  their  beauty  rare ; 
He  conned  his  labors  o'er. 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  *~ 


III. 

The  miserable  garret,  nearly  bare 

Of  every  comfort,  save  an  old  straw  bed, 
One  rough  pine  table,  and  a  broken  chair ; 

No  draperies  save  those  the  spiders  spread 
From  beam  to  beam,  their  webs  of  finest  lace, 

O'er  dingy  windows  looking  to  the  skies. 
There  he  at  last  had  found  a  resting-place ; 

There  wealth  of  thought  from  poverty  would  rise, 
As  Phoenix  from  her  flame. 

IV. 

There  toiled  he  through  each  weary  day  and  night, 

As  diamond-seeker  delves  in  darksome  mine; 
In  the  dim  vista,  hope,  a  beacon-light 

Oft  through  the  lowering  clouds  would  brightly  shine. 
As  dying  lamp  emits  a  brilliant  flame, 

So,  purified  by  poverty  and  gloom, 
An  inspiration  to  the  poet  came 

That  loosed  the  fetters  of  his  seeming  doom 
To  bring  him  wealth  and  fame. 


48 


JRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 
V. 

He  wrote  a  poem  called  "The  Magic  Ring." 

With  all  the  potent  influence  of   truth, 
His  fancy  did  his  own  sad  story  bring 

Of   lady  fair  and  ardent  rustic  youth, 
Pictured  the  talisman's  most  fatal  power 

That  banished  all  his  fondest  hopes  awhile, 
Until  the  genii,  as  a  final   dower, 

Caused  the  fair  lady  on  his  suit  to  smile, 
And  the  loved  prize  he  won. 

VI. 

His  story,  in  'such  graceful  measures  told, 

Touched  every  heart ;  and  as  the  praises  came- 
The  unsought  tribute  from  the  veterans  old, 

Great  warriors  in  the  fields  of  lyric  fame — 
He  felt  as  one  awaking  from  a  trance  ; 

Dazzled  by  sudden  brightness  'mid  the  gloom, 
He  thought  it  unreality, — perchance 

An  idle  dream  to  mock  a  hopeless  doom, — 
And  would  all   favors  shun. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 
VI  I. 

There   was  a  conflict,  but  he  won  at  last — 

Revived  by  fortune's  favors  ;    while  he  wrote 
To  his  dear  parents  of  his  dreary  past, 

He  ended  in  a  cheerful,  happy  note, 
Enclosed  his  book  to  give  them  pride  and  joy, 

With  more  substantial  presents  that  he  sent: 
His  mother  o'er  his  book  would  bless  her  boy, 

But  the  stern   'Squire   would  not  the  least  relent 
From  his   reproachful  mood. 

VIII. 

So  said  his  letters  ;    and  not  only  this, 

But  that  he'd  not  excuse  the  foolish  lad, 
Nor  would  he  show  the  book  to   Fanny  Bliss, 

For  he  had  hoped  his  folly  not  so  bad 
As  he  had  made  it  look   in   printed   verse. 

He  wrote :    "  By  authorship  you've  nothing  won  ;- 
I  fear,  my  boy,  you  go  from  bad  to  worse ; 

This   prating  to  the  world  what  you   have  clone 
Will  never  end  in  good." 

7 


50  JfifS;    OR,   THE   OPAL  RING. 

I  X. 

Courage  with  Rozmer's  better  fortune  grew; 

He  sent  to  Iris,  with  the  author's  name, 
His  little  book  that  such  attention  drew, 

As  harbinger  of  his  unlooked-for  fame. 
When  months  had  passed,  and  yet  no  answer  came 

From  her,  the  angel  of  his  fancy's  dream, 
His  own  presumption  only  could  he  blame, 

For  his  romance  might  arrogantly  seem 
To  blend  their  destiny. 


Disgusted  with  himself,  he  went  away, 

And  sought  in  change  of  clime  and  scene  relief; 
Alone  through  foreign  lands  he  fain  would  stray, 

And  would  beguile  by  novelty  his  grief; 
His  mind  from  monuments  of  art  sublime 

Drank  inspiration  and  ennobling  grace ; 
Yet  true  as   Petrarch — bard  of   softest  rhyme — 

He  ne'er  dethroned  his  idol  from  her  place ; 
There  she  must  ever  be. 


CANTO     FOURTH. 

i. 
TWAS  Sabbath  morn.     A  carnage  might  be  seen 

With  Iris  and  her  mother  on  their  way  : 
Homeward  they  drove  beneath  the   foliage  green 

Of  feathery  palms,  in  graceful  fan-like   sway. 
And  countless  blossoms  of  that  Southern  clime ; 

St.  Michael's  bells  awoke  the  drowsy  day 
In  tuneful  cadence  of  their  joyous  chime, 

Like  friendly  voices  that  appeared  to  say 

"  Wei — come — home  !     wel — come — home  !" 

1 1. 
From  out  the  window  Iris  gazed  around, 

Her  face  illumined  with  a  fond  delight; 
"A  welcome  meet,   thy  dear  familiar  sound, 
Grand  old  St.   Michael,  glorious  in  thy  might ! 

51 


52  /AVS.-    THE  ROMANCE 

No   strain   so  sweet  I've  heard  in   foreign  clime; 

All  other  notes  its  melody  excels ; 
Hark  to  the  music  of  the  pealing  chime, 

The  thrilling  cadence  of  the  joyous  bells ! 
They  seem  to  bid  us  welcome." 

ii  i. 

The  gnarled  oaks  their  giant  branches  spread, 

Veiled  in  gray  mosses  waving  to  and    fro ; 
Between  the  antlers  of  each  stag-like  head 

Bloomed,  like  a  coronet,  the  mistletoe ; 
Dark  green  the  leaves,  a  tiny  crown  impearled 

Gleamed  on  the  misty  pendants  swaying  there, 
Above  the  hoary  bark  that  stiffly  curled, 

Incrusted  by  the  heat  and  moistened  air 
Of  many,  many  years. 

IV. 

Magnolias  in  their  regal  beauty  stood, 

Yielding  their  fragrance  to  the  morning  breeze ; 

Unnumbered  singing  birds  poured  forth  a  flood 
Of  sweetest  music  from  the  stately  trees ; 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 

Camellia  borders  and  azalea  flowers, 

The  varied  beauties  of  that  favored  clime, 

Rose  from  the  carpet  to  the  sylvan  bowers 

Of  soft  green  mosses  and  the  sweet  wild  thyme, 
Bright  with  their  dewy  tears. 

v. 

To  their  fair  Southern  home  they  came  at  last, 

'Mid  smiling  slaves  that  near  the  carnage  drew, 
Making  obeisance  as  they  onward  passed; 

In  their  dark  faces  beamed  a  welcome  true. 
On,  on  they  pressed,  with  eager  pattering  feet, 

All  in  their  best  attire,  with  kerchiefs  gay, 
Each  struggling  with  the  others  to  compete, 

From  toddling  children  to  the  veterans  gray, 
Shouting  their  "  How-de-do  !" 

VI. 

The  princely  mansion  with  its  frescoed  walls, 
Rich  in  its  tapestries  and  art  sublime  ; 

Statues  and  paintings  lined  the  spacious  halls, 
With  antique  vases  wrought  in  Raphael's  time  : 


53 


54 


IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 


The  imposing  entrance  with  its  massive  door, 
Fit  emblem  of   the  bounty  there  bestowed, 


"  In  their  dark  faces  beamed  a  welcome  true." 

An  air  of  genial  welcome  ever  wore, 

From  the  broad  steps  to  the  embowered  road, 
Of  greeting  cordial,  true. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 


VI  I. 


55 


A  chorus  of  glad  voices  welcomed  them, 

Some  thanking  God  in  touching,  plaintive  tone  : 
"  Dey's  come,  oh,  bressed  Lord  !     Oh,   Bref-fla-hem  ! 

Tank  God  dey's  heah  to  be  no  more  so  lone !" 
They  rolled,  swayed,  sprang  about,  in  wildest  cheer, 

Until  the  carriage  stopped :    and  waiting  there 
Stood  the  old  nurse,  to  greet  her  ladies  dear; 

All  eagerness  to  show  her  tender  care, 
She  clasped  them  to  her  breast. 

VIII. 

The  ladies,  grateful  for  the   love  expressed, 

That  Sabbath  day  of  undisturbed  repose, 
Like  petted  children,  fondly  were  caressed, 

From  early  dawn  until  the  evening's  close : 
Old  Mammy's  face  beamed  with  supreme  delight ; 

With  hearty  outburst  of  devoted  love, 
She  cried :  "  Pears  like  I  dun  can't  sleep  ter-night  ; 

I'se  jis  a  gwine  ter  tank  de  Lor  above 
Fur  dem  I  lubs  de  best." 


c6  JRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 

I  X. 

14  Cooter,  tell  me  of    all  the  news  you  know  ; 

I  am  so  glad  to  be  at  home  again." 
"  My  chile !     Why,  honey,  why  for  you  dun  go  ? 

Tears  like  'twas  only   jist  er  gib  us  pain. 
Why,  chile !  I  jis  done  nuffin  else  but  cry, 

And  now  I  laugh  all  time  cause  you  am  heah." 
"  You  dear  old  stupid  !     What  has  happened  ?     Try 

To  think  of   something — even  this  last  year — 
That  I'd  be  glad  to  know. 

x. 

"  Daphne,  unpack  our  boxes  ;  we  have  brought 

Presents  for  every  one  upon  the  place." 
At  the  word  presents,  Mamma  Cooter  sought 

In  her  dull  brain  some  pleasing  news  to  trace 
That  would  bring  favor  in  the  gifts  bestowed. 

"My  chile! — why,  dat  ar  am  a  fac;  dat's  true, 
Dar  was  a  bundle,  all  gummed  up,  I  knowed 

Dun  cum — way  long  go — by  pos'   fur  you  ; 
I'll  bring  it  heah  to  show." 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 
XI. 

"The  poem  of  'The  Magic  Ring!'     The  book 

I've  wished  so  much  to  get, — and  sent  to  me?" 
As  on  the  fly-leaf  then  she  chanced  to  look, 

She  clapped  her  jewelled  hands  in  perfect  glee: 
"  From  Rozmer !  dreamy  Rozmer  of  the  North ! 

He  !  he  an  author,  with  his  rough,  hard  hands ! 
The  world  of  letters  loud  proclaims  the  worth 

Of  the  dear  poet.     As  a  prince  he  stands 
In  realms  of  poesy. 

XII. 

"  Ah  me !     It  seems  but  yesterday,  poor  boy, 

Since  our  last  sail,  when  he  so  nearly  had 
Made  me  believe  I  was  his  only  joy — 

I  thought  his  treatment  very,  very  bad  ; 
Such  an  odd  way  that  surely  was  of  his 

To  broach  the  subject  that  he  soon  would  wed 
The  Island  beauty,  pretty  Fanny  Bliss; — 

Now  I  remember,    with  my  farewell   said, 
I  left  my  opal   ring. 


57 


•&• 
B 


IRIS:   THE  ROMANCE 


XIII. 


"  Yes,  left  it  for  his  lovely  rustic  bride  :— 
I'll  read  his  precious  gift  with  pleasure  great. 


"  She  read  the  touching  story  of  his  hopeless  love." 

Oft  in  his  boat,  upon  the  swelling  tide 
Of  that  grand  river,  he  has  told  the  fate 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  59 

Of  phantom  groom  and  nymph  or  naiad  fair ; 

He  would  recite  to  me  or  sing-  his  song — 
His  own  wild  verses,  as  we  floated  there, 

By  sylvan  bowers  and  shady  banks  along : — 
I  loved  to  hear  him  sing." 

XI  V. 

Thus  she  soliloquized,  until  she  read 

The  touching  story  of  his  hopeless  love, 
Then  checked  her  breathing,  bowed  her  queenly  head ; 

As  she  perused  the   theme,  she  vainly  strove 
To  still  the  tumult  in  her  bosom  stirred, 

Until  the  story's  close,  and  he  restored 
The  treasured  gift  that  friendship  had  conferred ; 

Blushing  she  faltered  o'er  each  burning  word, 
And  mourned  the  more  her  loss. 

xv. 

Long  sat  she  silent,   then  exclaimed :  "  Too  late  ! 

His  gift  neglected  through  three  long,  long  years ! 
'Tis  only  some  mad  freak  of  cruel   fate 

To  torture  me  with  all   these  doubts  and  fears. 


60  MS-'    THE  ROMANCE 

Dear,  noble  Rozmer!     I  have  heartless   seemed 
When  only  merry  girlish   thoughts  were   mine. 

Had  I  of  your  devotion  even  dreamed, 

A  beacon  star  for  you  would  brightly  shine 
From  this  your  Southern   Cross." 

XVI. 

She  wrote  to  thank  him  for  his  book,  and  then 

Told  him  that  they  were  absent  when  it  came. 
Her  fingers  trembled  on  her  golden  pen ; — 

Writing  a  formal  letter  was  so  tame: 
She  sat  confused  with  mingled  hope  and  fear, 

Recounted  first  their  travels,  their  return, 
Then  wrote :    "  For  all  the  scenes  to  memory  dear- 

For  childhood's  sunny  hours — I  often  yearn, 
And  pleasures  passed  away." 

XVII. 

Then  to  her  mother  with  a  timid  grace 

She  went,  and  placed  the  treasure  in  her  hands, 

With  radiant  gladness  beaming  o'er  her  face. 
At  first  the  lady  could  not  understand: 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  6 1 

"  What  is  it,  darling  ?     Ah !  that  famous  book, 
'  The   Magic  Ring !'     I'm  glad  of  something  new. 

A  pretty  volume ;  o'er  a  page  I'll  look, 
And  if  it  pleases  me  I'll  read  it  through; 
'Twill  cheer  me  this  dull  day." 

XVIII. 

She  read  the  book  with  pleasure  and  surprise, 

The  more  so  at  the  tell-tale  blushes  deep, 
The  conscious  glances  of  two  sparkling  eyes 

That  could  not  from  her  any  longer  keep 
Her  daughter's   new-found  joy ;   "  Mamma !"  she  cried, 

"  I  never  even  dreamed  of  love  till  now : 
This  sweet  delight, — this  waking-dreamy  pride  ; — 

And  since  I  know  his  love,  I  plight  my  vow 
To  share  his  destiny." 

XIX. 

She  clasped  her  mother's  neck  in   long  embrace, 
And  lavished  countless  kisses  on  her  cheek, 

Tumbled  a  wealth  of  finest  Brussels  lace, 

And  for  a  long  time  would  not  let  her  speak ; 


62  IRJS:    THE  ROMANCE 

Until,  what  with  so  tightly  hugging  her, 
Her  eager  whispers  and  her  fond  caress 

Set  the  good  lady's  ears  in  such  a  whirr 
That  she  was  glad  at  last  her  love  to  bless, 
With  ruffled  dignity. 

xx. 

Rozmer  preferred  his  wishes  to  the  dame, 

Urged  with  the  fervid  eloquence  of  love ; 
He  craved  that  she  the  earliest  day  would  name, 

And  vowed  by  every  word  and  deed  to  prove 
His  life-long  gratitude,  if  she'd  bestow 

The  gracious  promise  of  her  daughter's  hand ; 
How  great  his  love  the  world  could  never  know,- 

No  other  passion  could  one  thought  command, 
Awaking  or  asleep. 

XXI. 

She  wrote  an  old-time,  stately  letter — told 

The  brave  young  author  he  had  won  his  prize 

She  had  enough  for  both  to  share  her  gold. — 
With  well-bred  courtesy,  both  kind  and  wise, 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING.  63 

Bade  him  the  'Squire  and  Mrs.  Langdon  bring  ; 

She  would  return  their  hospitality. 
"Pray,  bring  with  you  that  precious  Opal  Ring — 

That  magic  emblem  of  fatality; 

Its  charm  we  fain  would  keep." 


CANTO     FIFTH. 

i. 

THE  Frost  King  doffed  his  crystal  crown, 
And  laid  his  icy  sceptre  down 
Before  the  Spring  as  Easter  Queen, 
In  flowing  robes  of  emerald  green ; 
Trailing  arbutus,  pure  and  sweet, 
Blushed  through  the  mosses  at  her  feet ; 
The  mountains  doffed  their  caps  of  snow 
To  the  green  nodding  groves  below  ; 
The  ermine  cloak  spread  far  and  wide 
Dissolved  away  in  purling  tide; 
The  bridge  of  ice  as  plate-glass  lay 
In  broken  squares  to  drift  away. 

1 1. 

The  robin-redbreast's  lusty  song 
Echoed  in  cadence  shrill  and  long; 
64 


JRIS;    OR,   THE   OPAL   RING. 


The  crickets  chirped ;    the  croaking1  frogs 
Joined  in  the  chorus  from  their  bogs, 

Awaking      from      their     winter's 
sleep, 

A  merry  carnival  to  keep. 

All   Nature    seemed    to    ope  her' 
eyes 

And  view  herself  with  glad  sur- 
prise. 

Three  weary,  sad,  impatient  years 

Of   yearning   hope   and   anxious 
fears 


"  The  bridge  of  ice  as  plate-glass  lay. 
9 


66  /ff/S"/    THE  ROMANCE 

That  lonely  couple  waited  there, 
Threading  each  brow  with  lines  of  care. 

in. 

When  letters  to  their  Rozmer  came — 
Rozmer,  that  dear,  that  cherished  name  ! 
The  'Squire  wrote  his  last  address, 
And  sent  them  off  by  post  express, 
And  wondered  much  from  whom  they  came, 
Whether  Miss  Albey  or  the  dame. 
The  lengthened  days  and  sunny  hours 
Covered  the  fields  with  countless  flowers ; 
Trees  spread  their  leafy  canopies ; 
Stiff  hemlocks  pointed  to  the  skies ; 
The  tasselled  pines  with  graceful  ease 
Dallied  with  every  passing  breeze. 

IV. 

Cedars  were  grouped  in  cozy  bowers 
With  coronet-like  buds  of  flowers ; 
And  silver  birches  ranged  in  rows, 
Incased  with  bark  like  drifting  snows  ; 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

Coquetting  maples,  light  and  gay, 
Like  careless  children  at  their  play ; 
Clusters  of  fern-like  mountain  ash 
Stood  listening  to  the  river's  splash, 
And  arched  their  boughs  of  darker  hue 
To  wild  clematis  climbing  through, 
Its  plumous  dove-like  flowers  seen 
Like  sea-foam  'mong  the  leaves  of  green. 

v. 

The  bobolink,  with  mantle  white, 

His  other  plumage  black  as  night, 

Soared  o'er  the  globes  of  clover  red, 

Whose  shamrock  leaves  a  shelter  spread 

Above  a  little  moss-built  nest, 

Where  sat  his  mate  with  mottled  breast 

Guarding  her  tiny  fledglings  young: 

To  her  a  wondrous  song  he  sung, 

Uprising  in  his  joyous  glee, 

To  waft  the  glorious  melody, 

In  liquid  notes  so  sweet,  so  clear, 

That  all  of  life  would  pause  to  hear. 


68  IJUS:    THE  ROMANCE 

VI. 

Gay  humming-birds  with  glancing  flight, 
Their  necks  ablaze  with  colors  bright, 
With  flaming  red,  gold,  bronze,  and  green, 
Were  sipping  cups  of  eglantine. 
One  lovely  day,  at  early  dawn, 
Rozmer  came  walking  up  the  lawn. 
Rozmer,  more  graceful,  noble,  hale, 
With  pleasure  viewed  his  native  vale. 
Unlike  the  rustic  youth  of  old, 
And  yet  in  bearing  quite  as  bold, 
Touched  by  a  genial  air  refined, 
As  if  reflected  from  his  mind. 

VI  I. 

Old  Prince,  the  first  with  joy  to  greet, 
Sprang  whimpering  to  his  master's  feet ; 
His  dear  old  pet,  his  childhood's  fnend> 
Whose  love  with  life,  would  only  end, 
To  meet  him,  rushed  with  fawning  bound, 
But  sank  exhausted  to  the  ground, 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING.  5 

Where,  as  entranced,  he  stiffly  lay, 
Until  his  spirit  passed  away. 
Spirit?     Yes,  spirit.     Reader,  pause 
Before  imputing  breach  of  laws ; 
A  dog  with  human  reasoning  mind, 
Such  as  was  his,  so  faithful,  kind, 
To  die  of  joy !     Rozmer  would  say, 
Spirit  immortal  passed  away. 

VIII. 

Then  came  a  burst  of  rapture  true, 

That  echoed  the  dense  forest  through, 

As  with  a  lingering  fond  embrace 

His  mother  kissed  his  lips,  his  face : 

"  My  boy !     My  precious,  noble  boy  ! 

O  God !    I  thank  thee  for'  this  joy ! 

Rozmer  our  darling,  home  again  !" 

The  'Squire  could  not  his  wrath  maintain  ; 

He  fondly  clasped  him  to  his  breast, 

Choked  back  his  tears,  and  said :  "  'Twas  best, 

All  for  the  best,  my  son,  although 

For  me  'twas  hard  to  think  it  so." 


IRIS :    THE  ROMANCE 
IX. 

"  Rozrner,  a  letter  came  to-day 

From  Mistress  Albey ;  I  should  say, 

By  her  desire  Miss  Albey  wrote — 

Ah'm !  what's  the  matter  with  my  throat  ?- 

Wrote  to  invite  us  both  to  pay 

A  visit  at  an  early  day;" 

Then  added,  with  a  doubting-  smile : 

"  But  how  can  we  afford  such  style  ?" 

"Afford  it,  father?     To  be  sure 

We  can,  for  I'm  no  longer  poor; 

My  work  has  paid  me  well,  and  we 

From  such   reflections  must  be  free. 

x. 

"  Iris  has  promised  to  be  mine — 
My  light  of  love,  through  life  to  shine." 
"  Ah'm  ! — ah ! — ah'm  ! — I,  as  you  spoke, 
Swallowed  a  straw ; — I  nearly  choke  ! 
But,   Rozmer,  you   are  true  as  steel : 
I  wonder  how  will  Fanny  feel? 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 

t 

Ah !    see,   she  comes,  and  swings  her  hat ; 

A  handsome  girl  she  is  that — that — " 

Her  entrance  stopped  what  he  would   say  ; 

In  her  bright,  fascinating  way, 

She  kissed  Dame  Langdon's  cheek,  and  paid 

Rozmer  a  courtesy   most  staid. 

XI. 

Her  stay  was  short.     With  her  adieu 

She  said:  "We  all  shall  welcome  you;" 

And,  blushing,  added :   "  Yesterday 

My  father  feared  you'd  be  away 

Next  month ; — you  know  we   all   depend 

Upon  you  acting  as  our  friend ; 

Captain   De  Favour  knows  no  one. 

Why  do  you  laugh  ?     What  have   I  done  ? 

Must  I  confess  that  on  that  day 

A  happy  bride  I'll  sail  away? 

The  Captain's  yacht  waits  by  the  shore 

To  bear  us  the  wide  waters  o'er." 


IRfS:    THE  ROMANCE 
X  I  I. 

"  Let  me  congratulate  you,  dear," 

'Squire  Langdon  said;  "and  our  son  here 

Leaves  very  soon  to  join  his   bride ; 

He  takes  us  old  folks  both  beside. 

Rozmer,    a  very  happy  end — 

The  Captain  a  most  valued  friend." 

Fair  Fanny,  blushing  rosy  red, 

Quick  through  the  lovely  valley  sped, 

Sprang  in   her  little  light  canoe, 

And  soon  was  hidden   from  their  view. 

XIII. 

Then  to  his  faithful  favorite's  side, 
Who  of  his  love  and  joy  had  died, 
Rozmer  repaired,  and  hollowed  there 
A  grave,  'mid  moss  and  flowers  fair, 
Beneath  an  elm,  whose  branches  deep 
In  pendent  arch  from  harm  would  keep 
The  tablet  graven  on  its  bark, 
The  resting-place  of  Prince  to  mark, 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

On  the  broad  trunk  of  the  old  tree 
Inscribed  in  letters  bold  and  free : 

XIV. 

FIDELITY 

Joy  burst  thy  heart,  dear  faithful  friend ; 

Mere  words  are  tame  to  sing  thy  praise ; 
True,  fond,  devoted  to  the  end, 

No  monument  to  thee  I  raise; 
But  may  this  elm  majestic  wave 

Its  noble  branches  over  thee, 
To  mark  thy  resting-place,  thy  grave, 

Through  many  a  future  century. 
No  human  friendship  more  could  prove 

Than  thy  devotion,  loyal,  true  ; 
I  mourn  for  thee  and  thy  great  love, 

Brave,  faithful,  noble  Prince,  adieu  ! 


XV. 

Swan  Island  well  became  its  name  ; 
There  Rozmer  often  hunted  game 


:    THE  ROMANCE 

Ere  Cupid  shot  the  sportsman  bold, 
Wounding  his  heart  before  so  cold, 
And  kindled  there  a  quenchless  fire, 
And  gave  him  aspirations  higher. 
The  wedding  passed  with  no  display, 
Save  Nature  in  her  bright  array ; 
Their  poet  friend  the  groom  beside 
Was  first  to  greet  the  rustic  bride: 


XVI. 

"  Fanny,  two  years  ago  or  more 

My  Iris  left  a  gem   she  wore ; 

She  wished  that  I   her  gift  should  bring 

To  you,  a  precious  opal   ring, 

A  flaming  jewel,   bright  and   rare, 

That  you   for  her  should  always  wear  ; 

So   much  I  loved,   I   could  not  part 

With  that  sweet  pledge  so   near  my  heart 

This  diamond   of  brilliant  hue 

The  loss  will  compensate  to  you, 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 


And  by  your  gallant  husband's  grace, 
The  ring  upon  your  hand   I'll  place." 


x  vi  T. 

The  blushing  bride  with  glances  shy 

Received  the  gift  coquettishly, 

Said  she  had  heard  a  fatal  spell 

O'er  opal  gems  must  ever  dwell ; 

She  much  preferred  the  diamond  bright, 

That  sparkled  as  a  star  of  night, 

To  stone  of  changing  tint  and  glow, 

As  fickle  as  prismatic  bow ; 

Asked  how  he  dared  to  keep  a  thing 

So  dangerous  as  an  opal  ring. 

XVIII 

He  laughing  answered  her:    "The  Fate 
Found  me  in  such  a  hopeful  state, 
Through  all  her  cruel  spell  of  woe, 
That  she  consented  to  bestow 
Another  charm  more  potent  still, 
That  bound  the  opal  to  my  will, 


76 


IRIS;    OR,   THE  OPAL  RING. 

To  win  for  me  my  future  joy, — 
True  happiness,  without  alloy ; 
Its  light  has  no  ill-boding  glow ; 
It  shines  for  me  a  'promise-bow. 


CANTO    SIXTH. 


i. 

THE  Summer  doffed  her  mantle  green 

And  mellowed  into  harvest-time ; 
With  regal  step  the  stately  queen 

Went  forth  in  her  maternal   prime ; 
The  forests  blushed  in  crimson  hues ; 

The  leafy  trees,  with  vines  entwined, 
Bore  impress  of  her  bright  adieus — 

In  glowing  colors  they  combined ; 
The  orange-groves  their  fruit  of  gold 

Commingled   with  the  buds  and  bloom  ; 
The  amaranth,  with  bosom   cold, 

Exulted  o'er  the  early  doom 
Of  the  more  fragile  kind. 

77 


78  f£SS:    THE  ROMANCE 

II. 

In  chamber  bright  with  tint  of  rose 

And  tapestry  that  loosely  hung 
Broidered  with  Cupids  in  repose 

The  trailing  vines  and  flowers  among, 
On  costly  furniture  there  lay 

Full  many  a  gauzy  fabric  fair 
That  in  confusion  of  display 

Were  destined  for  the  future  wear 
And  chaste  adornment  of  the  bride ; 

And  she  in   solitude,  and  free 
From  all  intrusion,  here  could  hide 

Amid  the  flowing  drapery 
Its  ample  folds  behind. 

i  ii. 

The  mocking-birds  a  medley  sung, 
In  murmurs  low  the  fountain  plashed, 

The  sparrows  plunged  its  foam  among, 
Bathing  in  tiny  jets  that  dashed 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

Over  a  nymph  of  beauty  rare — 

An  Aphrodite — born  of  spray, 
Uprising  in   the  misty  air 

Above  the  dolphins   at  their  play  ; 
Through  open   casement  sweet  perfume 

Of   countless  blossoms  pure  and  fair 
With  grateful  fragrance  filled  the   room, 

And  Flora's  incense  everywhere 

The  light-winged  zephyrs  flung. 

IV. 

Iris,  whose  raven  tresses  fell 

In   rippling  flow  o'er  brow  and  neck, 
Concealing  half  her  bosom's  swell, 

No  flower  wore,   no  gem   to   deck 
Her  girlish  charms  with  brilliance  bright, 

No  costly  robe  of   silken  sheen, 
But  snowy  muslin,  pure  and  light, 

Such  as  she  wore  when  she  had  been 
With  him  in  his  wild   Northern  home  ; 

Such  garb  became  her  winsome  grace, 


8o 


IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 


As  she  through  rural  bowers  would  roam 
In  that  romantic  wild-wood  place 
The  rocks  and  ferns  among. 


"  My  chile, — Miss  I — ris, — whar  you  gone?' 


V. 

She  read  his  letter  which  the  day 
Before  he  left  he  sent  to  her, 

And  now,  so  near  her  on  his  way, 
Their  meeting  he  would  not  defer ; 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING.  g  r 

The  tender  words,  inspired  by  love, 

She  read  in  whispers  low  and  sweet : 
"  Darling,  your  promises   to  prove, 

I  go,  as  pagan  to  the  feet 
Of  idol  in  its  sacred  shrine, 

To  bring  the  flaming  gem  /  stole, 
That  I  have  coveted  as  mine, 

Your  opal  ring — pearl  with  a  soul — 
To  solve  its  magic  spell." 


VI. 

Much  more  was  written,  but  no  bird, 

In  playful  dalliance  on  the  spray 
Of  myrtle  vine,  could  hear  a  word 

Of  aught  that  in  the  missive  lay. 
Aroused  at  last  by  croaking  tone 

Of  Mammy  Cooter,  in  great  glee : 
"  My  chile, — Miss   I — ris, — whar   you  gone  ? 

Here's  Massa  Rozmer  come  ter  see 

Oh,  bress  de  Lord  !  she's  flu — e — flu, 
ii 


82  IK  IS:    THE  ROMANCE 

An'   nebber  put  on   nuffin  fine, 
An'   dar  was  all  dem  dresses — new, 
VVid  dat  ar  frock  no  better'n  mine, 
In   dat  ole  buckra  style." 


VI  I. 

And  she  did  fly  as  if  the  air 

Wafted  her  through  each  corridor, 
Till,  like  a  vision  passing  fair, 

The  welcome  guests  she  stood  before. 
The  mistress,  with  true  courtesy, 

Gave  to  her  friends  her  kindest  care. 
The  lovers,  left  alone  to  be 

A  few  brief  precious  moments  there, 

Then  Iris,  with  devotion  due, 

• 
The  parents  of  her  hero  sought 

With  winning  fondness  warm  and  true, 
That  to  their  faces  sunshine  brought, — 
Contentment's  happy  smile. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 
VIII. 

Rozmer  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes  : 

The  ripening  graces  of  three  years 
Had  dignified  his  lovely  prize. 

He  whispered  (only  for  her  ears): 
"  If  I  had  even  thought  or  known 

To  what  perfection  I  aspired — 
A  Queen  of  Beauty  on  her  throne — 

I   should  all   hopeless  have  admired. 
Where  did  you   find  such  wealth  of  love, 

Unworthy  as   I   still   must  seem  ?" 
"  God  gave  it  me,   that  I  may  prove 

With  true  devotion  all   I  deem 
Worthy  my  hero's   choice." 

IX. 

The  pompous   'Squire,  as  knight  of   old, 
Played  the  grand  gentleman  as  well, 

Full  well  accustomed  thus  to  hold 
His  court  at  home :    he'd  bravely  tell 


IRIS;    OR,   THE   OPAL  RING. 

The  noble  guests  he  chanced  to  meet 

The  wonders  of  his   Northern  vale, — 
The  wild-wood  sports,   some  famous  feat, 

That  sounded  like  'a  fairy  tale, 
Of  fox-hunt  after  the  first  snows; 

How  hounds,  of  keenest  scent  and  eyes, 
And  eager  huntsmen  deftly  close 

In  circle  narrowing  round  the  prize : — 
He  always  won  the  brush. 


x. 

A  quiet,   dignified,  true  worth 

Shone  in  good  Mrs.  Langdon's  face 
That  fine  old  lady  of  the   North, 

Pure,  womanly,  with  modest  grace, 
Rejoicing  with  maternal   pride, 

Developed  all   those  social  charms 
That  now  she  had  no  cause  to  hide  ; 

She  girded  on  those  genial  arms, 
The  etiquette  of  the  old  school, 


56  JR1S-'    THE  ROMANCE 

That  her  fond  mother's  tender  care 
Strictly  enforced  by  line  and  rule 
Upon  her  rustic  daughters  fair, 

Their  wayward  moods  to  hush. 


XI. 

The  wedding  day  arrived  at  last ; 

Rozmer,  impatient,  waited  near 
Her  door,  and  oft  his  glances  cast 

For  one  that  now  must  soon  appear. 
At  last  the  portals  opened  wide; — 

Half  lost  amid  the  flowing  lace, 
They  led  her  forth,  the  lovely  bride: 

Her  veil  enveloped  form  and  face ; 
Pure  as  a  Virgin's  halo  lay 

The  snowy  orange  blossoms  sweet, 
Above  her  brow,  entwined  with  spray 

Of  myrtle  vine,  Love's  emblem  meet, 
Oft  named  in  ancient  song. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 


XII. 


Rozmer  his  grateful  pride  expressed, 
Her  answering  glances  sweetly  paid. 


"  Half  lost  amid  the  flowing  lace,— the  lovely  bride," 

The  'Squire  would  have  the  bride  caressed 
But  Mammy  Cooter  was  afraid : 


gg  IRIS;    OR,   THE  OPAL   RING. 

"  Done  touch  my  chile,  nor  mussen  speak  ; 

De  bressed  angils  hubber  neah 
De  bride,  dey  tech  her  lips  an'  cheek, 

An'  make  her  like  deirselves  appear. 
Miss  Iris'  lubly  as  a  queen." 

Cooter  had  dressed  with  care  and  pride — 
Her  kerchief  white,  her  favors  seen, 

Would  show  the  folks  dat  was  her  bride, 
As  she  the  ranks  filed  through. 

XIII. 

Then  chimed  the  eight  bells  from  the  dome 

Of  old  St.   Michael's  massive  tower ; 
The  same  that  welcomed  Iris  home 

Awoke  the  wedding  service  hour. 
Noble  the  guests,  and  bright  the  day, 

As  if  the  summer  came  again, 
To  smile  upon  the  flowery  way. 

The  Wedding  March,  that  grand  refrain, 
Echoed  through  chancel — nave — to  spire. 

Their  vows  were  paid,  the  last  sweet  prayer 


"  THE   WEDDING   SERVICE   HOUR." 


go  /ff/S.-    THE  ROMANCE 

O'er  the  gray  dome  ascended  higher, 
Wafted  by  holy  angels  there, 
Who  hover  o'er  the  true. 


XIV. 

They  paused  one  moment  at  the  shrine, 

As  if  their  bliss  to   realize, 
Most  sacred,  holy,  pure,   divine 

Of  all  our  human   sympathies  ; 
Then,  as  a  talisman   to  hold 

The  wedding-ring  and  guard  from  harm, 
The  opal,  on  its  throne  of  gold, 

The  bridegroom  placed  as  magic  charm. 
Confiding  love  and  pleased   surprise 

Blended  her  thanks  in   timid  grace, 
While  blushes  warm  in   rosy  dyes 

Shone  through  the  shimmering  veil  of  lace, 
Like  the  first  glow  of  morn. 


OF  AN  OPAL   RING. 


XV. 

Much  more,   dear  reader,   I   could  write, 
Ere  bidding  you  and  yours  good- 
night, 

Of  bridal  pageantry:    the  sport 
In  some  suburban,  wild   resort, 
Near    old     St.     George's     ruined 

tower, 
Crumbling    within    its    wild-wood 

bower ; 

Or  near  the  famous  Drayton  Hall, 
With  ivy-shrouded  tumbling  wall, 


"  Near  old  St.  George's  ruined  tower.' 


92 


IRIS:    THE  ROMANCE 


Where  lichens  drape  the  ancient  trees, 
As  if  to  guard  from  chilling  breeze, 


"  Or  near  the  famous  Drayton  Hall." 

Enchantment  all  around,  above, 
From  ruined  tower  to  fragrant  grove. 

XVI. 

'Squire  Langdon,  like  a  boy  at  play, 
Kept  all  the  sporting  party  gay ; 
Be  sure  he  won  the  brush,  he  thought 
Twas  his  own  skill  that  deftly  brought 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

Him  foremost,  when  the  party  came 
Upon  the  silver-frosted  game. 
Proudly  his  cap  he  gaily  dressed 
In   trophy  granted  him  as  guest. 
With  bugle-notes,  and  hounds'  deep  bay. 
The  party  homeward  took  their  way, 
The  Ashley's  dreamy  banks  along, 
Singing  a  cheery  hunting-song. 

SONG. 


The  morn  hath  plumed  its  wings  of  light, 

Its  rosy  mist-veil  flung 
O'er  the  weird  shades  of  passing  night, 

The  forest  gloom  among. 

Chorus. 

Call  off  the  hounds  from  the  fray  ! 

Give  to  the  hunters  the  rein  ! 
Homeward  we'll  hasten  away, 

Singing  a  merry  refrain, 
Waking  the  echoes  again, 
Echoes, — echoes, — a-gain. 


93 


.-    THE  ROMANCE 


II. 

Happy  is  he  who  won  the  brush 

To  give  his  lady  fair, 
While  she  with  beaming  eye  and  blush 

The  frosted  plume  shall  wear. 

Chorus. 

Call  off  the  hounds  from  the  fray  ! 

Give  to  the  hunters  the  rein  ! 
Homeward  we'll  hasten  away, 

Singing  a  merry  refrain, 
Waking  the  echoes  again, 
Echoes, — echoes, — a-gain. 

1 1 1. 

With  clattering  hoofs  and  baying  hounds 
We'll  homeward  take  our  way; 

The  forest  our  glad  cheer  resounds 
And   joins  our  roundelay. 

Chorus. 

Call  off   the  hounds  from  the  fray  ! 
Give  to  the  hunters  the  rein  ! 


OF  AN  OPAL  RING. 

Home  let  us  hasten  away, 
Singing  a  merry  refrain, 
Waking  the  echoes  again, 
Echoes, — echoes, — a-gain. 

Through  deep  ravines  and  forest  lone 
The  nymphs  invoked,   with  mimic   tone, 
Trilled  back  the  musical   refrain, 
In  whispers  sweet,   "  again  !   a-gain  /" 


95 


H 1 


